


Love Is Blind

by HighlandYorkie



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 19:10:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighlandYorkie/pseuds/HighlandYorkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin shares a tale from after the fall of Erebor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Is Blind

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't going to post this until I'd finished More Than The Shire, Deeper Than The Mountain but I've been asked by a few to share this story now rather than later.
> 
> So here it is.

**Love Is Blind: Part 1**  
 _“Now is the time” Thorin stated to anyone and everyone sat near the camp fire, though his eyes were fixed firmly on that of the hobbit Bilbo Baggins._

_“Time for what?” Bilbo asked suddenly feeling so very small and alone._

_“Time for me to tell you about Cyndaril and my everlasting shame”_

_Bilbo Baggins looked at Gandalf the Grey who had moved a little closer to the fire and then to several of the other dwarves who nodded and looked up at Thorin with what appeared to be both sympathy and a touch of pity but they all looked eager apart from Balin and Gandalf who just looked sad and thoughtful, silently glancing at each other, as if they knew what was to come._

_“I will not repeat this tale nor will I put up with interruptions, once it is told it is told….understand?” Thorin stated._

_The hobbit lit his pipe and smiled, keen to hear what now held the entire company enraptured._

_“I’ll keep quiet” he answered, both Kili and Fili also motioned that they would remain silent._

_Thorin gave a deep sigh and sat himself opposite the rest of the company and stared into the flickering flames of the fire._

_“It began few years after we had lost Erebor and I was still so very full of anger, the bitter taste of betrayal still clung to me……..”_

_Several years before_  
The rumours of a rogue pack of orcs riding wargs wandering the area had proved to be true, Thorin knew that for himself as he pulled his axe free from the fifth one he had managed to kill that day, knowing full well that he would have to resharpen its edge once he returned to the village for he knew that with his last blow the keen edge had grown dull.

Boredom, anger and his inherent restless spirit had sent him out alone, ignoring the pleas of his kith and kin and the sound advice from Balin, Thorin had insisted that he would be fine and that he simply needed space to be away from the bustle of this place that he would never be able to call home.

Home to him would always be Erebor.

He remembered the hallowed halls of Erebor with a burning passion that drove him ever onwards, at times to the very brink of madness. He knew however that one day he would walk their fabled halls and once more the longbeards would be able to call The Lonely Mountain home.

Anywhere else was simply a poor substitute, a place of exile until the right time and means came to claim back what was theirs.

Thorin had counted eight orc’s but he had only killed five, three more now lay in wait unable to resist a lone dwarf apparently lost in the woods. Only this dwarf wasn’t lost, he was out hunting for something to ease his mind, for something to pay for all that had happened to not only him but his people.

Sudden movement in the undergrowth to his left caused Thorin to turn his attention away from the tracks he had been studying, with a cry he leapt forward his anger clouding his judgement.

It proved to be a costly and foolish mistake.

It was the searing hot pain that brought him to his knees as his hands grasped his axe tight, tears welling up in his eyes.

As he had jumped Thorin noticed at the last second that the orc that had caught his attention as it moved into his field of vision was carrying a rather bent and twisted staff.

This was no mere orc tracker but an orc shaman and it had just struck him with their vile almost unnatural magic.

A foul magical fire now enveloped his very being, it burned not like a true flame but more like an acid sticking to everything it touched, oozing slowly over his armour and his trusted axe, he looked down in horror as he saw the head of it slowly start to crack and flake into dust.

“Fight me” he growled as he fought to move forward, only the pain was too great and he finally dropped his axe as his vision began to dim, his body crippled with wave after wave of pain.

This was not going to be a glorious death, he thought to himself as the cold darkness reached out to embrace him.

The orc shaman chuckled gleefully and edged forward slowly, the other two remaining orc’s stepped out from their hiding places in the undergrowth and since they felt much braver they had no hesitation in approaching the now fallen dwarf.

A mistake that they were destined never to repeat.

The veil of death that was covering Thorin was ripped asunder as he made one final frantic almost berserk like lunge at whatever was before him, blind and enraged he cared not what it was he struck.

He did however laugh almost manically as he felt his axe dig deep until it struck bone not once but twice, any joy however was short lived as he too felt Orcish blades dig deep into his flesh causing him to cry out.

“Flee, you fool!” came a cry in a voice Thorin knew and yet he couldn’t quite place it.

Suddenly fueled by a sense of self preservation, if not a smattering of fear Thorin Oakenshield did something that he loathed to do, he fled from the scene of a battle.

Blinded and wounded he staggered and stumbled through the bushes and trees, the remaining orc on his heels, where he was going he had no idea, he just knew he had to keep moving forward.

To stop meant death.

He bounced off a tree and stumbled, hitting the damp earth hard as he tripped over an exposed tree root, crawling forward he almost yelled out as the ground beneath him gave way and he tumbled down a steep slope.

Branches, roots and rocks struck out at him, tearing at his armour, his clothes and his flesh. By the time he came to a stop at the bottom of a ravine, Thorin resembled a corpse more than a living dwarf.

Unable to move, let alone open his unseeing eyes Thorin, son Thrain held what little breath he had left as he heard footsteps approach his prone form.

It was the cool touch of a hand and not the cold touch of a blade that he felt upon his brow before he finally succumbed to the all encompassing darkness.

There was a gentle voice in the darkness, mumbled words that soothed away his pain.

Thorin knew neither where he was nor what was going on, all he did know however was that he was alive.

“Lay still my friend” said the voice in the darkness.

“Where?” he managed to asked his voice cracked, his lips dry.

“Safe, that is all that matters my lord”

“Who are?” he started to ask

“I am Cyndaril” came the reply to his unfinished question as he faded into the black .


End file.
